Newman was not at home.
With his retirement to Littlemore, Newman had entered upon the
final period of his Anglican career. Even he could no longer help
perceiving that the end was now only a matter of time. His
progress was hastened in an agitating manner by the indiscreet
activity of one of his proselytes, W. G. Ward. a young man who
combined an extraordinary aptitude for a priori reasoning with a
passionate devotion to Opera Bouffe. It was difficult, in fact,
to decide whether the inner nature of Ward was more truly
expressing itself when he was firing off some train of scholastic
paradoxes on the Eucharist or when he was trilling the airs of
Figaro and plunging through the hilarious roulades of the Largo
al Factotum. Even Dr. Pusey could riot be quite sure, though he
was Ward's spiritual director. On one occasion his young penitent
came to him, and confessed that a vow which he had taken to
abstain from music during Lent was beginning to affect his
health. Could Dr. Pusey see his way to releasing him from the
vow? The Doctor decided that a little sacred music would not be
amiss. Ward was all gratitude, and that night a party was
arranged in a friend's rooms. The concert began with the solemn
harmonies of Handel, which were followed by the holy strains of
the '0h Salutaris' of Cherubini. Then came the elevation and the
pomp of 'Possenti Numi' from the Magic Flute.
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